Clarity
by Sintalion
Summary: Daryl and Eugene want the same thing: Beth. Standalone, but can be considered part two to my other story, Claimed (continuing as requested). Bethyl pairing.
1. Clarity

**WARNING:** This is a work of **Bethyl fanfiction**, meaning that I am making up scenes and situations that are not true to the show*and have the intended results of a Beth+Daryl pairing.

*also ignoring the comics because these characters don't exist/interact in that world

Minor edits for sentence structure will occur in the AM. Please excuse a foggy sentence in the meantime. 3

**SUMMARY:** This can be considered either a standalone work, or part two of my last Bethyl fanfic, _Claimed, _whichever you like. This takes place in the winter in an unknown location, after the events of Season Four have long since wound down.

_If you like what I do, please comment or follow or message me or check me out on Twitter! _

One perk of apocalyptic life was that once again weather could surprise.

Sure, the leaves had fallen and the grasses had browned and curled, but the more time passed and the further they traveled, the less Daryl could judge the months. The days were short and cold and the nights stretched on into groaning chaos. _Winter was coming_; that much Rick's group had known when they settled into a ransacked community of crooked gates and broken bottle streets.

They'd done what they could to secure the place, made extra runs and welcomed a few additional members into the fold. Frosted flesh and frozen eyes were a welcome relief each morning; the walkers were slowing, freezing in mud and mires and growing sluggish in the waning days.

Yes, Rick's group knew winter was coming, they just hadn't expected the high clouds to drop six inches of fine powder over one afternoon. What's more, the heavens seemed full enough to triple that total overnight.

The wind sprayed snow against the siding and funneled gusts through the community that had gathered into a two-story duplex to conserve firewood and heat. There weren't enough rooms for everyone to have their own, so families had chosen to huddle together and the singles of the group were left to the task of pairing up.

Not that there was any privacy these days anyway. Doors remained open and the sounds of people being people drifted through the halls and occasionally made Daryl wish he was back drinking with Merle.

"You've got first shift," Carol was saying. Her hand against his made him straighten. "I've gotta wake for midnight and there's no point in the bed being empty half the night. Hop in with me."

"Yeah, sure." He'd almost missed her tentative smile, distracted by Beth as she dropped a blanket into his hands. Before the quilt sprite could zip away he piled it back onto the stack beneath her chin and grabbed his crossbow off the floor. "I'll be out."

"Oh. Carol, here." Beth passed it to the older woman, who nodded her thanks and trotted down the hall to the assigned room. "Should be quiet tonight," she said, lingering beside him a moment.

"M'hopin so." He fiddled with an arrow.

"Deer'll be easy to track tomorrow."

"If you can stand the cold."

She shook her head- then something caught her eye and she laughed, elbowing his wrist. "You're not seriously going to stand out there in those gloves, are you? They're paper thin. Take some from the trunk we found in the attic. You know what, I'll bring them down once I'm-"

"Daryl." Eugene stepped between them, immediately lifting the load from the girl's arms. "Beth, allow me."

"Thank you. Seems like I've been stepping on ends all night."

"I've noticed." He edged out Daryl to meet Beth's eyes.

She blushed.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?"

Daryl hadn't thought to ask the question, but what had been mild disinterest in Beth's attempt to get on a hunting trip with him (he knew a snowball'd be headed his way) quickly dissolved into curiosity.

"With Rick, Carl, and Judith. It's tight."

Honestly he didn't really trust Carl to keep his hands to himself, but he trusted Rick's son a whole lot more than the man currently beaming at Beth.

"I'm not a small man, but I'm not big enough to take up a queen alone. If you want-"

"I'd love that."

"Maggie's not gonna like that," Daryl said. Beth looked surprised, as though she'd forgotten he was there, and added:

"We're all adults here."

Daryl removed himself from the wall he'd leaned against and took to the front door.

Beth reached for his arm."Where you going? I was getting you gloves."

"Don't need 'em," he said, pulling away. He tried to ignore Eugene pointing out that she'd be better off wearing multiple light layers instead of one heavy sweater. "Have fun playin house."

"Why's he have to be that way," he heard her ask before the door slammed shut.

Perhaps two hours had passed in the storm; the inches piled on thick and heavy as moisture settled into the air. He was more a house perimeter guard tonight; the visual range was too small to do more than trust that the cold and fences would hold the gated community safely until sunrise.

Firelight stretched out the door and shadowed the snow as Eugene stepped through the doorway. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward a porch rocking chair. "You've been on your feet this whole time."

"Makin sure we all survive."

"You really think that's what this is about?" When Daryl failed to accept the invitation, Eugene kicked his feet out and sent it into motion himself. The two men watched the snow a few minutes, before Eugene spoke. "Your goal might be to survive, but some of us plan to rebuild as a species. Young women like Beth are the future, not its past. She admires you. You should treat her with more respect."

"What do you care?"

"As a red blooded male with limited options around, I don't understand why you wouldn't. The old won't be repopulating this earth. We're headed back to the days of twelve sibling families."

"And I'm disrespecting her." Daryl settled for snapping an icicle off the porch roof instead of one of Eugene's fingers. "She ain't somebody's whelping bitch. Specially ain't yours."

"No, you and I both know that. Which is why I am taking her under my wing. As the most protected member of this group, she'll be safe both tonight, and later, more permanently."

"Pick somebody else." It wasn't a request, but it may as well have been judging by Eugene's bark of laughter.

"Carol? Michonne? They're done. Maggie, Sasha, and Rosita are taken." He traced the chair's arm. "You're a survivor, Daryl. A damned good one, one we owe our lives to. But the future demands men of substance, men with a desire to do more than survive. Beth wants to live. _Live_, which is something you're not built for doing. She's a housecat. You're a tom. She's better off inside, somewhere safe and warm where she can live a long life."

Daryl didn't speak for several minutes, the creak of the battered rocking chair a reminder that his future wasn't in the new world; it belonged in the current one. Not a breath or groan broke the stillness in the night air. The main street lights had all burned out or broken years ago, but the snow blanketed tragedy by laying the foundation for a new beginning. And he thought that seasons changed the landscape yearly, and wondered if the world could kill and destroy and freeze, if he might one day thaw. Maybe even put down some roots.

He dropped the crossbow in Eugene's lap. The man who'd lapsed into a smug catnap nearly fell out of his chair.

"You're on watch four more hours."

"Survive 'til I'm back."

Flakes peppered the panes and Daryl's hair as he marched around the house, counting windows until he'd found the right one. Raising a fist, he rapped sharply on the glass.

Silence.

As he prepared to knock again, the window shot up to reveal a blanketed Beth. "Jesus, Daryl! You scared the heart outta me. What the hell're you doing here?"

"Sorry." As if mindful of the temperature, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at the sight of her. He'd caught her in the process of pulling out her braids; the freed blond strands framed her face in soft waves.

Beth leaned out, complexion gleaming like snow as she dusted powder off the sill and peered into the spiraling darkness. "You see something? Want me to call Rick?"

"No."

"So what is it?" Relief escaped her mouth in the form of a soft white puff and a girlish shiver. "Hurry up. It took me forever to warm this room and now the heat's all run out."

Daryl drummed his knuckles against a panel of siding bent beneath the weight of snow and thought about Eugene and housecats and somewhere safe and warm. After everything they'd endured to this point she deserved that future, but he also knew he couldn't deliver it.

"Got a dry pair of gloves?"

She mumbled a response and disappeared into the depths of the room for a minute, rubbing her arms all the while. "They're not that warm," she rambled upon return, blowing softly into each to heat the interiors for him. "That's the best we've got. Give me the old ones and I'll lay them out by the fire."

"Thanks." He slid his fingers through the lukewarm fleece and turned to leave. "I'll bring 'em in later. Get back under the covers. Eugene'll be back soon."

A tug on his collar stopped him cold.

"Let's have them."

Under the scrutiny of her bright blue eyes he relented, pulling the gloves out of his back pocket and handing them over.

"Daryl, these aren't even damp." He watched her expression shift from surprised to quizzical. As her mouth opened, likely to scold him for waking her up for nothing, fire rushed through his veins. He grabbed her by the shoulder and kissed the base of her neck until his lips warmed and the pressure and motions of his mouth reddened her skin. Her nails slipped past his cheek and into his hair, either pushing him off or pulling him in, he wasn't sure and didn't care.

"Claimed," he whispered against the hair she'd hastily pulled over the fresh mark.

She slapped him good and hard and deservingly.

"G'night, Beth."

"Daryl Dixon, you ain't the one who does the claiming," she called after him in a hushed tone, as though afraid someone might hear.

His cheek stung, but he expected nothing less from a lady.

Yes, he liked Beth's future. More importantly, he'd just chosen to fight for a place in it.


	2. Convenience

Beth eased the window shut. It might've been below freezing outside, but her fingers were sweaty as she gathered fleece blanket ends around her shoulders. Adrenaline bellowed missed opportunities into her ears, drowning out the hiss of wind and snow against the panes. She slipped beneath the bed covers and lay still, listening to the war fought across her body. Without moving, without touching, the hot spot pulsed against her throat. Come dawn there'd be a mark, a discolored testament to her lack of will power.

Beth groaned and rolled into the ditch created by a person long since gone. Rick'd probably notice when she retrieved Judith in the morning. Him or Carl. And she felt a little bad for Carl; he was a teenager not far behind in years and he liked her. Everyone knew that, even if they didn't acknowledge it beyond telltale smiles whenever he helped her clean guns. Neither one would say anything, however. That'd be Maggie's job. Or Rosita's. And they'd both be pissed with Daryl for bothering a girl several years his junior.

Floorboards creaked.

Eugene framed the door and Beth reminded herself that she was a woman. Axel had thought so, and Carl, and while arguments against their opinions might have been valid, there was no denying that the farm girl had been coming into her own.

"Can't sleep?" The man asked, pulling off more clothes than Beth'd expected. Rick and Carl were family; she didn't _feel_ anything sleeping beside them. But here and now pink flushed her cheeks at the realization that she'd made his bed and had to lay in it. Eugene was kind and smart and understood her frustrations at being considered one of the weaker group members. She liked him. He led without being physically strong and was respected for it. Half the time she felt like she had to fire a gun to get anyone's attention around here.

Until tonight.

"Not a wink." She stared into the wall as he got in beside her, instinctively easing her legs as close to the edge as possible without falling off or alerting him to her intentions. It took every ounce of resolve to move her legs back toward the center like the confident woman she wanted to be.

"What's keeping you up?" The bed bent. Eugene turned, about to place a hand on her shoulder but likely thinking better of it when she tugged the blanket around her neck and fixed him with a withering stare.

"Daryl banged on the window. Wanted the gloves from before." Beth's heart leaped into her throat. She wondered if Eugene could hear it in the quiet.

"That's all," he asked.

She breathed a sigh of relief, heart rate subsiding into a steadier thump-thump. "Yeah. Startled me." As a daughter of Hershel Greene she'd spoken the truth.

But also the tiniest of lies.

The truth was, she'd startled herself. She'd let Daryl's mouth chill her neck and remembered in that moment feeling surprised, wondering if Walkers appreciated the intimacy of touching a gentle slope of human vulnerability. It'd been a long time since she'd let anyone get so close.

And she understood just how dead inside she'd been, and how alive she felt now, with thoughts of one man and the breath of another warming her neck.

"Beth, I would be remiss if I let you be taken advantage of."

"By who," she asked, flashing an innocuous smile.

"Mr. Dixon is a praiseworthy man, but I question his intentions."

"He's rough around the edges and I know he doesn't like you much, but he's a good guy, really." She paused, swallowing a lump in her throat. "He's my brother, always teaching and showing me the ropes."

"Are you certain of that?"

Fingertips tapped each word into her wrist. Beth took a deep breath. "I'd know if he felt something more."

The hand migrated up her arm, gentle, comforting. She tried settling into him, really tried. Eugene made sense; he'd always been considerate and likely wouldn't cease being so now. As she closed her eyes she heard him murmur a soft "Your shoulder's tense."

That was all the excuse she needed to throw back the sheets and sit up. "You know what? I can't sleep. It's too cold in here. I'm gonna rest by the fire."

"No need for that. Body heat's just as good." He didn't stop her, but he did touch his feet to cool floors and half-stand. "If you're uncomfortable, I'll leave. I shouldn't have asked."

And now she'd gotten herself into a fine conundrum. "No, no, stay." She insisted, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down, reluctance masked behind an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I'm just jumpy from the scare."

"Well, you needn't be," he reassured, draping an arm over her body. "Goodnight, Beth."

"'Night Eugene." But it was not very good for the young woman who passed the hours staring into snow.

Carol'd gone out after midnight and was still on duty when Beth took to the other woman's room in the early morning hours. Her feet stopped at the threshold; she could make out Daryl's body across the bed. Big. Muscular. Old. Looking at him she felt her age, young and inexperienced, with a supple figure and lean muscles still learning how to aim for a deer's heart.

She didn't linger long, hand so cold it ached. Water dripped onto the floor with each step. "Beth?" Daryl sat up rubbing his eyes.

"Don't you ever do that again," she said, and threw the snowball at his face. It exploded across his cheek and melted into his shirt collar.

"Your aim's gettin better," he decided after several choice and utterly unapologetic words.

"Get dressed." She made sure he saw her pat the aquamarine scarf encircling her throat. "The Tierney's kids are sick. We're going on a run."


End file.
